FOURTH READER. THE MAPLE TREE'S CHILDREN. BY ABBY MORTON DIAZ. ABBY MORTON DIAZ was born at Plymouth, Mass., in 1821. The little girl was allowed to live out of doors, a free, happy life, wandering about the ship-yards, and playing upon the beach to her heart's content. She was very fond of playing with other children, and often invented games, making songs to fit them. When this play season was over, she became fond of study, and began writing a little for children. She was full of music, and would gather children about her and teach them to sing. When her first story for children appeared in print she was almost ashamed to have her friends see it, for it seemed to her that nothing of her own was worth publishing. The story was well received, however, and followed by many others, which are full of nature, imagination, and fun. She lives near Boston, and is interested at present in writing for older people. shiv'er ing pré şĕnt'ěd mul'ti tūdeş děs'ó láte preş'ent ly 1. A MAPLE TREE awoke at springtime, shivering in the east winds. "O Mother Nature," she said, "I tremble with cold. Behold my limbs, ugly and bare. The birds are all coming back from the South, and I would look my best. They will soon be building their nests. O, a bird'snest does make a tree so pleasant! But they will not come to me, because I have no leaves to hide them!" 2. And kind Mother Nature smiled, and presented her daughter Maple with such multitudes of leaves! More than you could count! These gave beauty to the tree, besides keeping the rain out of the bird's-nests. For birds had quickly come to build there, and there was reason to expect a lively summer. 3. A happy Maple Tree now was she, and well pleased with her pretty green leaves. They were so beautiful in the sunlight; and the winds whispered such sweet things to them as to make them dance for joy! A pair of golden robins had a home there; and thrushes came often. Sunshine and song all day long! Or if the little leaves became hot and thirsty in the summer's heat, good Mother Nature gave them cooling rain-drops to drink. A happier Maple Tree could nowhere be found. 4. "Thanks! thanks, Mother Nature," she said, all your care and your loving kindness to me!" "for But when autumn came with its gloomy skies and its chilling winds, the Maple Tree grew sad, for she heard her little leaves saying to each other, "We are going to die! We are going to die!" People living near said, "Hark! Do you hear the wind? It sounds like fall." Nobody told them it was the leaves, all over the forest, saying to each other, "We are going to die! We are going to die!" "My dear little leaves!" sighed the Maple Tree. "Poor things, they must go! Ah, how sad to see them droop and fade away!" 5. "I will make their death beautiful," said kind Mother Nature. And she changed their color to a scarlet, which glowed in the sunlight like fire. And every one said, "How beautiful!" And one cold morning she stood with her limbs all bare, looking very desolate. The bright leaves lay heaped about her. "Dear, pretty things!" she said. them! They were such a comfort! Nobody will care for me now!" "How I shall miss And how ugly I am! But presently a flock of school-girls came along, talking cheerily of ferns, red berries, and autumn leaves. 6. "And I think," said one, "that there's a great deal of beauty in a tree without any leaves at all." "So do I," said another. "Just look up through this tree. Its branches and boughs and twigs make a picture against the sky!" And the lively school-girls passed on. “Ah," said the Maple Tree, "this will at least be pleasant to dream about!" For she already felt her winter's nap coming on. If she could but have heard what her little leaves said to each other afterwards, down there on the ground! 7. "Dear old tree! She has taken care of us all our lives, and fed us, and held us up to the sun, and been to us a kind mother, and now we will do something for her. We will get under ground and turn ourselves into food to feed her with, for she 'll be sure to wake up hungry after her long nap!" 8. Good little things! The rains helped them, and the winds,- -in this way: the rains beat them into the ground, and the winds blew sand over them, and there they turned themselves into something very nice for the old Maple Tree, something good to take. And now, as she wakes up again in the spring and takes a full meal of it, she is once more lively and happy, and many fresh young leaves unfold to clothe her limbs. They drank in the warmth of springtime, They threw off their swathing bands, And reached out into the sunlight Their pink, imploring hands. They were rocked in the arms of summer, While wandering winds above In murmuring music of love. |